


Muscle Memory

by Emeka



Series: dumb soft shtuff [6]
Category: Summon Night (Video Games)
Genre: Crushes, International Fanworks Day 2021, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:29:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28920606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emeka/pseuds/Emeka
Summary: In which Kagerou has it pretty bad.
Relationships: Folth/Kagerou
Series: dumb soft shtuff [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1394320
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	Muscle Memory

“All I can do are stick figures,” Folth says, more cheerfully than Kagerou sometimes hears the same line from others. It is a self-accepting kind of cheer. His chin rests on the back of his hands as he peers over at Kagerou’s starting lines from the seat beside him.

The technical aspect of art, Kagerou has never been able to really explain. When he sees a thing, he knows how to work out a decent replication. It’s something he’s practiced at since he was little, so he’s not sure if his current level of skill that gets him labeled a ‘good artist’ is from experience or talent, and then how much of either. There was a time stick figures were all he could do, too. “It’s easier when you get it in your muscle memory. Here...”

He’s under no delusion that this will really help Folth with his woeful inability to do art beyond the abstract. It’s not something he’s ever expressed any desire to improve, just something he sighs about with a smile, as he had just now. It would be presumptuous to really try to teach. But any excuse to be close is a good one.

When Kagerou leans into Folth’s shoulder, he leans back, instead of away. The smell of his hair wash makes him momentarily short-circuit, then he puts his hand under his, guiding the charcoal. “Once you get used to it, it’s almost automatic. You just... move.”

They’re too old to go around holding hands anymore, but this is kind of like that. His hand has always been bigger than his, so now it sits with a comfortable, solid weight on him. The shape is growing different. Becoming leaner, stronger. His own too, naturally, but that’s only important in that maybe Folth is noticing the same thing about him right now.

Their life model is an ordinary-looking girl and the first one they've had, their next step after the little poseable dolls. Probably why she was brought in; not extremely beautiful, or ugly, or old or fat or muscular, nothing yet harder than it needs to be for a class of beginning artists. Average is easy. There’s a bunch of small talk and helpful pointers going on, so his manual guidance is not particularly noted.

She would make for an easy enough sketch, or even an actual piece. But the jaw he outlines is a little square, the mouth a little too thin. The nose goes almost straight out instead of curving up. Folth starts to laugh. His fingers tighten for a moment on his. “Kagerou…”

“What?”

The brow is harder---how many times has he seen it furrowed in concentration?---the eyes livelier, friendlier, or maybe it just seems that way while she’s surrounded by a bunch of strangers. The cheekbone is not very prominent but higher-placed.

“Kagerou, this is me.” He leans back into him even harder, shaking his head, embarrassed but pleased too. “You can’t turn this in.”

“I've still got my paper to finish.” He wants to ask, didn’t you notice? I don’t have to look at you to draw you. That’s how well my mind and my hands know your features. “Don’t worry about me failing art for you. But I guess you'd better get another sheet, huh.”

Long after class is over he smells soft, cloying wax and the musky nitty-gritty of charcoal. Folth, too, like warm linen… but like his face, that is something he can recall at any time.


End file.
